Heir of Lord Voldemort : The Choice
by Sauron of Mordor
Summary: Lord Voldemort killed the Potters and the Longbottoms and abducted their only sons to bring them up under the shadow of the Dark. At 17, both 'boys' are invaluable additions to the Dark Army. But Harry Potter, aka, Jerome Solomon, doesn't think so. Certai
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer:

Harry Potter and the related characters belong to JK Rowling. I am merely borrowing them for having a little bit of fun. No money is being earned in this, only a bit of satisfaction.

**The Heir of Lord Voldemort**

**Prologue**

Lord Voldemort was elated. Another plan had been successfully executed by his faithful Death Eaters. The Abercombies of Lancashire no longer stood in his path. They had been killed the previous night, by his Death Eaters. 'One less obstacle in on the quest for absolute power!' Lord Voldemort thought.

The Abercombies were one of the most powerful pure-blood wizarding families in the north-west of the country. They were also one of those Muggle-loving fools – one of the few pure-bloods who had opposed his plans from the outset and questioned his intentions. Even as his true designs came to the fore, they allied themselves with another old Muggle-loving fool – Albus Dumbledore – the Headmaster of Hogwarts. For the last thirty years, the family had been a nuisance to him and his plans for total domination over the wizarding world. All members of the Abercombie family were now dead, right from the oldest patriarch to the youngest infant. There was no room left for anyone of that family towards opposing him now, and none for vengeance either. No one challenged the Dark Lord, openly or secretly, and lived to see another day.

The latest killings would further strengthen his plans. Although the Dark Lord had till now gained a sizeable following among the Dark Creatures, his goal still eluded him, for most part due to the efforts of Albus Dumbledore. He still didn't have total dominion over the world, as he would have liked, but his plans were now ripening. He had two secret weapons – weapons that only his most trusted aides knew about – weapons that were once supposed to have been his bane – weapons that he had by his guile and cunning turned into his greatest aides. The time was now fast approaching for those weapons to step forth and terrorize the world in his name. The time was now fast approaching…

At the moment though, these things were far from Lord Voldemort's mind as he was now in conference with three of his most trusted aides – Bellatrix Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape.

Snape was currently saying, "Master, Dumbledore has lost all control over his own people. They have now become more inclined towards joining Crouch in his own style of war than waiting and watching with Dumbledore. Even within the faculty at Hogwarts, the Headmaster has lost confidence. The Ministry is slowly taking over the reins of administration. This is the right time to strike at Dumbledore and bring him down."

"Severus, my faithful spy," Voldemort replied, "Do not think that Dumbledore is weak and friendless…and do not be too eager in making plans, that's my concern. However, Dumbledore still has a following, whether you see it or not. Even if you asked around you now in the outside world, more than half of the people out there would rise to protect him. To them, he is omnipotent, the hero, their saviour still, even as the old fool knows that he can himself do nothing to stop me from gaining power."

"Then, may I ask, master, why I am anointed as a spy at Hogwarts in the case? I can be most useful in the actual war instead." Snape asked, his face expressionless like a mask.

"Don't concern yourself with these matters now, Severus," Lucius Malfoy said, "It's enough that you do your work. Nothing else is expected of you." The dislike in Malfoy's voice was indeed palpable.

"No, Lucius, my friend," Voldemort cackled, "He should know, he has been faithful and deserves a reward for his toil." Turning to Snape, his gaze directly firmly into the black eyes of the man standing to his left, he continued, "For now, let it be known that Dumbledore is the only man besides us who knows of the 'boys' – who they really are and why we have them. Isn't that reason enough why we should keep a strict watch on him? He may be old, but his mind still works as sharp as clockwork. Remember this the next time you have misgivings about your role in this war."

Snape nodded and bowing low, said, "Pardon me, master. I was too eager to go upfront in battle."

"I understand you enthusiasm, Severus," Voldemort said. "Be patient for a few days and you will then reap your reward."

Snape bowed once again to the master.

At that moment, a knock came to the door.

Voldemort commanded, "What is it?"

The Death Eater at the door informed, "Master, the 'boys' wish to speak to you."

"Send them in," Lord Voldemort commanded and then nodded to his aides. They sank back noiselessly against the wall of the dark, unlighted room, lit faintly by a fire burning in the grate; and into the shadows, were they could not be seen.

The door opened and threw light onto the heavily carpeted floor. Two young men walked in and the door closed behind them.

The young men came up to Voldemort's high-backed chair and bowed low to him. Both murmured softly, "Father."

"My sons," Voldemort said, "What brings you here?"

One of the youths stepped forward. He was tall, about six feet in height, with neat, black hair, hazel eyes and a slightly healthy frame. He was Russell Solomon, one of Lord Voldemort's two adopted sons – his secret weapons.

Russell said, "Father, I seek your permission to attend the Quidditch World Cup this month in Germany."

Voldemort smiled inwardly to himself. He knew that the 'boys' (everyone still called them that even though they were technically seventeen-year old youths now) loved Quidditch. That was the only thing that he hadn't taught them, he didn't think that it was a necessary skill. However, his Death Eaters thought otherwise, and for once, Lord Voldemort thought that they might as well enjoy their chance as long as they had time.

Other than that, the Dark Lord himself had taught both of them all the spells that they had learnt over the years. He had never sent them to Hogwarts for the fear of disclosing their real identities and diverting them from the paths that he had decided for them. He had taught them all Dark magic, that would assist them in combat and was now waiting for the right time to unleash them upon his enemies – his deadliest weapons.

"And," Voldemort said weighing his words and turning to the other youth, "Don't you want to go?"

The other youth, too, was tall but not as much as the first one. He had messy black hair, a lanky frame that oozed ease and spectacles which veiled his captivating emerald green eyes. He was Jerome Solomon, his other 'son'.

"Father," Jerome answered, "I have no wish. Your desire will be my command."

Voldemort knew that this would be the answer. Jerome was an intense person. His manners might ooze ease and scorn, but the intensity with which he felt things was something exceptional. He had watched the boys since they had been a little more than a year old, and as time passed, the difference in the personalities of the both of them grew as well.

Russell was a more easy-going and fun-loving person. He was remarkably over-confident, though not incapable with the wand. He was a powerful wizard, and always flaunted his skills. He was a man who could keep the right people happy even under the shadow of fear. The Dark Lord himself did not approve of his open-mindedness and forgiving nature and hoped to himself that would change once he would be inducted formally into the ranks. He regarded Russell as a big threat to himself, and in case the former did not happen, he had plans for eliminating him.

Jerome, meanwhile, was another proposition altogether. He was intense, difficult and more powerful than anyone even Lord Voldemort himself had ever seen, with the exception of himself and his old nemesis, Albus Dumbledore. His talents were understated, something that lay beneath the skin. Yet the Dark Lord couldn't wait when he would ignite his internal fire and loose himself upon his enemies. He knew Jerome would never betray him and already had great plans in store for him, plans to make him the general of his armies, even while he himself, continued to search for immortality.

With Russell, the Dark Lord's relationship was more like that of a near relative, but with Jerome, it was the relationship between that of a master and his disciple. Even with all the skills that he possessed, the Dark Lord had not as yet managed to read Jerome's mind, the way he knew everything that went on in Russell's mind. Yet the truth was Jerome was totally and faithfully inclined to the Dark Side, and hence was not considered a threat to him dominion.

The boys' had always shown interesting traits when under training. Russell was an open book who reveled in battle, almost a war monger, you might say. He shot more spells than he needed to, almost as if he enjoyed doing that. Jerome, meanwhile, was the strategist; he was cool, calculative and ruthless. He could sense the weakness of the enemy and pounce upon it like a predator. Already, as the 'boys' were being initiated slowly into the Death Eater ranks, Voldemort found himself looking forward more and more to the time when Jerome would formally become one with them.

Lord Voldemort considered the boys' request for a moment and then said, "Very well. I permit you to go. But things uncalled for might happen there." He added with a small smile. "Take those as tests that will you prepare you for your ultimate test. If you pass through these minor tests unscathed, you will have to face tougher times and perils to prove your mettle and only then will you deemed fit to join our noble cause of ensuring pure-blood dominion."

"Yes, father," Russell said, bowing. He looked positively elated at the prospect of visiting the World Cup. Jerome, on the other hand, looked non-committal and bowed respectfully.

Both 'boys' now went out and Lord Voldemort's aides came back to the fore.

"Lucius," the Dark Lord commanded. "I want you to deploy some of our men to keep a watch on the 'boys'. Don't let them interfere or spy upon anything that they do, just keep them out of danger. We don't want them to get killed, being caught in our plans for the Cup. I may want them to prove themselves, but I also need them alive for the next stage of my plan."

Lucius Malfoy nodded and exited the room, his robes swirling behind him.

"Severus," he commanded next, "Go back to Hogwarts and do the usual. Await my new orders then."

Severus Snape bowed as well before the Dark Lord and then, exited the room.

Bellatrix Lestrange, meanwhile, stayed behind and asked her master after the others had gone out, "Master, why do you let them call you 'Father'?"

"I have answered that question before, Bella," Voldemort replied. "It was once foreseen that these boys would be my doom, but I have changed the writings of fate and that prophecy. These 'boys' are my weapons now. I have taken away their families, their identities and imposed the Dark upon them. Do you think my teachings would have been a success had they not called me their 'Father'? No, for they are still human, as I intended for them to be, so that I could manipulate them. And so, they will pay allegiance to me so long as they call me 'Father'…

"Do you not realize it, my pupil? I have removed the only possible thing that could instigate them against me, their love and I have replaced it with hatred and malice. They cannot harm me, not so long as they call me their 'Father'. Don't you see it now? Don't you realize it?"

Bellatrix nodded. She had indeed heard this explanation before, she knew of the boys' real identities as well, but her mind always had misgivings. She was especially wary of young Jerome, even though her master thought highly of him. He might be only seventeen, but instinct told her that he was not all he pretended to be. She didn't fear Russell – he was over-enthusiastic and over-confident, almost a fool, but Jerome…he was something else.

Even now as her master explained his plan once again to her, she was lulled by his words, by his impeccable and elaborate plan, but something at the back of her mind told her that it wasn't the last time she would need to hear that explanation.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Severus Snape was walking through the corridors of Lord Voldemort's fortress, his lair, the impenetrable rock structure, called the 'Doomstar'.

Suddenly, as he walked in between the pillars that bordered the length of the corridor, a voice came from behind him, "I can understand that he might have commanded you to keep in the shadows but I can't gather why you are leaving without meeting me, especially when you meant to."

_To Be Continued…_

Author's Note:

This was a plot bunny that wouldn't go away, no matter how I tried otherwise. So I decided, 'What the heck! Let's post it." Please let me know if you like it. This is my first AU fic and I could do with a bit of encouragement.

On the flip side, if some of you are a bit confused with this, don't worry. Everything will become clear soon enough.

So long then, bye. Hope to hear from all of you soon.


	2. News of the Outside World

Disclaimer:

Harry Potter and the related characters belong to JK Rowling. I am merely borrowing them for having a little bit of fun. No money is being earned in this, only a bit of satisfaction.

**One**

**News of the Outside World**

Fifteen minutes later and Severus Snape was walking through the corridors of Lord Voldemort's fortress, his lair, the impenetrable fortress 'Doomstar' as christened by the general public. It was a huge, spiralling castle with many towers and turrets, ever surrounded by dark clouds that made the bright rays of the sun scarce. It was a dull, dark and gloomy place – ever lifeless but for the legions of Death Eaters and Dark creatures that had infested it. Not a living plant grew inside the fortress, which was itself protected by the most ancient of charms and spells.

Such was the fortress 'Doomstar', long named so in the annals of the magical communities of the world. Once upon a time, it was called the 'Palace of the Dawn' and was a fair place with the intention of the makers being to create a school in the likeness of Hogwarts. But while Hogwarts was filled with life, hope and joy, the Doomstar was a place where the Dark reigned supreme. It never performed its intended function of being a school and merely succumbed under the devices of the Dark.

Severus walked through one of the corridors in the dreaded palace. It was always dark here; the days seemed even gloomier than the night, when at least, the torches burned on the walls.

Suddenly, as he walked in between the pillars that flanked the length of the corridor, a voice came from behind one of the pillars, "I can understand that he might have commanded you to keep in the shadows but I can't gather why you are leaving without meeting me, especially when you meant to."

Severus turned around and said coolly to the owner of the voice, "Indeed, I was but I foresaw that you, in your eagerness, would come to meet me yourself. Take that explanation or consider that this was a test for you."

"Test? Of course, you meant to take one, didn't you?" Jerome said and came forward. Both Severus and he looked at each other, as if sizing the other up, and then their faces broke into slight smiles and they shook hands.

"So," Jerome began, "What brings you here?"

"Nothing except the usual," Severus replied. "Our activity has picked up over the last few days."

"Which activity, I wonder," Jerome muttered casually.

"Shhh!" Severus motioned him. "Don't say anything here."

"Relax, Severus!" Jerome said. "Don't psyche yourself out."

There was a brief silence that hung over the place. Both men looked at each other in the eye, their eyelids unblinking, their wills contesting against the other.

Severus was the first one to look away. The emerald eyes of the young man in front of him were gleaming with a strange light, mirth, you might say. He said, "Good! You have learnt quickly."

Jerome nodded. "So tell me, what news of the outside world?" he asked, showing a hint of eagerness.

"Not here," Severus said in the slightest of whispers.

"Okay," Jerome agreed. "Let's go for a walk then."

Both of them walked silently in each other's company, their footsteps echoing back from the stone walls around them. They made swift progress and soon reached the gates of the fortress. Beyond the fortress, there were grassy lands, fair to behold and full of green and blossoms; but still undeniably under the sway of the Dark Lord for a couple of miles around. Such a contradiction could hardly be found anywhere. The castle spoke of death and rot, while its grounds conveyed life and vigour.

Both Severus and Jerome passed onto the grounds and out of earshot of the castle walls. They made their way farther from the entrance, to a place where they could not be spotted so easily.

"So," Jerome asked, giving a glimpse of his youthful eagerness and exuberance again (something that he always tried to hide), "Is it true?"

"What?" Severus asked, though he had a very good idea as to what the young man in front of him was talking of.

"About the Abercombies," Jerome said again, "Is it true that they are dead?"

"'Killed' is a more suitable word," Severus replied. "Out of our way is another."

"Don't put on that façade with me," Jerome sneered.

"Then what should I do?" Severus inquired.

"You could have told them to hide," Jerome suggested, "You could have at least informed them."

"I did," Severus answered, "So did others who are wiser. We told them to hide, at least the children and others who could not stand up and fight. Unfortunately, they believed that they could defend themselves much better. They did not realize that the devices of the Dark Lord are many and numbers don't count for anything in this war, especially when the numbers are always going to be against the side of the Light."

"You know," Jerome interjected. "You are running a very big risk on your life here by acting as a double agent against my father; and more so, by having me know of the same. I could just open my mouth and turn you over to be tortured, any day that I might like."

"Yes," Severus remarked nonchalantly. "But I know that you area man of honour. That you will not break it by going back against your own oath."

Jerome sighed. He couldn't win against Severus Snape. Just for an instant, he had thought that he caught him off guard, without an answer at the ready; but Severus came out on top once again.

"Yet," Severus said, "You must remember that you are at greater risk here than I am. If your father gets even a sniff of the notion that you are sporting ties with the enemy, he will condemn you to eternal torment in the dungeons."

"Don't worry," Jerome assured the older man, "He will never know."

"One can never be too careful in these matters. They don't concern one or two lives only. They concern the entire fate of a civilization. If one link breaks, everything will collapse." Severus cautioned. Jerome nodded in understanding.

They walked again silently for some time, following the path of the stream that flowed through those lands. It was a pretty stream that originated from among the hills adjacent to which the fortress was built. It would its way south-west and finally joined the River Mersey even as it made its westward journey.

"So," Severus began, "Did you think of what I said last time…of what I proposed?"

Jerome nodded. "Yes," he said, "I thought on it…"

"And…" Severus prompted.

"I'm willing to meet your friend," Jerome replied. "But as you said, neither of us can afford a goof-up."

Severus nodded and said, "I must go now. You will receive your instructions when the time comes. For now, let it be known that you will meet in Germany."

He stepped away from Jerome and lifted his wand to Apparate away. Just before he did though, Jerome went close to him and whispered in his ear, "Just before you go, tell your friend that what he promises to reveal must be worth it. After all, I am my father's son."

"Which, I wonder…" Snape said and Apparated away. Jerome made his way back to the fortress.

Severus Snape walked across the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The early summer sun was shining brilliantly and a slight breeze was blowing across the open area, causing ripples to appear on the surface of the lake. He could see the students lazing about, half of them good-for-nothing in his opinion – students who had no concern about the world they lived in. Severus knew that his opinion of the students was widely reciprocated. The students didn't quite love him – in fact, they loathed him equally. He wasn't the most popular teacher at Hogwarts, neither was it his wish to be so. All Severus Snape had learnt in the years of his life was that the work assigned, the job at hand, must always be done, no matter what the price.

He entered the castle and entered the refuge of his office. After a few minutes spent alone in silence doing nothing, he stood up and went to a nearby shelf filled with jars containing pickled, slimy creatures. He felt along the side of the shelf. He came upon an irregularity in the woodwork and pressed it, almost like a button. It sank back to reveal a small opening against the wall. Severus put his hand inside and found what he was looking for. He pulled his hand out and looked at the sherbet lemon wrapper in his hand. He held it firmly between his thumb and forefinger and muttered a quiet word under his breath. Even as he said it, he was transported into the magnificent office of Albus Dumbledore – the Headmaster of Hogwarts.

Albus Dumbledore was a very old man, the legend of whose life had ballooned beyond the realms of belief, in part due to reality and for the most part due to his fame. No one in the wizarding world remembered his age. Some put it at two hundred years and others put it at more than that. Although he was, by his self-admission not as old as that, he was nevertheless, old even compared to wizarding life-spans. He had a flowing, white beard and equally long hair, a crooked nose and warm blue eyes that twinkled merrily on most occasions from behind his half-moon spectacles.

The moment Severus arrived, Dumbledore looked up from the piece of parchment on his desk which he was writing upon and fixed his gaze on the man before him. He said, "I was expecting you. You seem to have got delayed."

Severus merely nodded in response.

He said, "Yes, I was. The council extended a bit longer than usual. I tried the convince the Dark Lord that we are weak and vulnerable, but he still isn't interested in the bait."

"We'll talk about that later," Dumbledore said. "For now, I am more interested in other matters. For instance, did you talk with him?"

"Yes," Severus replied, "He is interested in meeting you."

"Very well," Dumbledore commented. "During the Quidditch World Cup then?"

Severus nodded in reply.

"Headmaster," Severus asked, "How do you know it is him?"

"I don't know," Dumbledore replied nonchalantly. "I am just guessing."

Severus was just about to say something in return when a knock sounded on the door. Dumbledore looked once at his Potions master and nodded. Severus quickly walked to a tapestry and hid himself behind the gap that had appeared there.

After Severus' disappearance, the Headmaster said, "Come in."

The door opened to reveal a pretty girl with cinnamon eyes and bushy brown hair. She was wearing the Hogwarts uniform and a badge proclaiming her position as Head Girl was pinned to her robes. She was Hermione Granger, the cleverest witch to come to Hogwarts and Head Girl in now, her last year at the school.

"Professor," Hermione said, "You sent for me?"

"Indeed, Miss Granger," Dumbledore answered. "I wanted to ask if you still stand by your resolve to join the Order."

"Yes, I do," Hermione replied. A gleam appeared in her eyes. It was her resolve to prove herself.

"Very well then," Dumbledore said. "You shall be inducted into the Order the night after the term ends. You will be departing on your first mission over the summer."

Hermione seemed excited with the news. She smiled to herself in happiness. It had been her great desire to join the Order of the Phoenix, the organization formed by Dumbledore which opposed Voldemort, and fought against the evil that was perpetrating throughout the country now. That wish was now coming true.

Hermione asked, "What does the mission concern?"

"I will not go into the details now," Dumbledore said, "But you will have to meet someone and bring him in secret to meet me. For that, you will need a journalist's identity. I will leave you to arrange for that."

"Oh," Hermione said, seeming a little put out by the nature of the mission described to her. She had expected to be on a more action-packed mission, but the initial description of her first mission had disappointed her.

"Don't be disappointed," the Headmaster said, with a smile on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes, "If you can do this and everything goes according to our hopes, this will be the turn of the tide for us in this war."

Hermione nodded, still unconvinced.

Dumbledore told her, "Don't worry. Go back now to your house. And yes, remember not to say anything about this to anyone, ever Mr Weasley. Only two persons besides you and I know anything of the plans."

Hermione nodded in understanding and left the room.

After she left, Severus appeared back from the place where he had hidden.

He stood before the Headmaster and said, "Do you deem it wise for someone so young and inexperienced to take up such a mission? Do you think he will trust a 'girl', Muggle-born no less?"

Dumbledore replied, sighing, "If he doesn't trust her, our hopes are false." And judging by the expression that had appeared on Severus' normally expressionless face, he hadn't understood a bit of what the Headmaster had said.

Author's Note:

So, here is chapter one. Hope you like it. I will update in a week's time. Till then, see you.

P.S. Please, please do review the story.


	3. Torment in the Dungeons

Disclaimer:

Harry Potter and the related characters belong to JK Rowling. I am merely borrowing them for having a little bit of fun. No money is being earned in this, only a bit of satisfaction.

**Two**

**Torment in the Dungeons**

After breaking up his meeting with Severus, Jerome walked back to the Doomstar. He liked this fortress, though he had never known anyone who felt the same way of the place, except maybe for the exception of his father. Jerome felt that the old place had a very elaborate history behind itself. The place might be dark, dreary, gloomy and dreadful, but to Jerome, it appeared like a place full of secrets. He did not mind the dark overmuch – he had been taught to worship it since childhood and he felt more at ease in the dark that outside in the light. For Jerome, all the dark meant secrets and he sincerely believed that once he uncovered those secrets and understood their meaning, even the dark would turn into something he could pierce and perceive.

Jerome was wearing his signature clothes – dark black robes that perfectly matched his raven-black hair. He always wore black robes, no matter what. No one remembered seeing him in any other colour. This was quite in contrast with Russell whose fascination for bright and dark hues alike were quite marked.

Jerome was making his way to his living quarters located in the west wing of the fortress. It was the part of the fortress which was used for the purposes of housing the fortress' permanent residents (at least, human). Just as he was nearly there, he was stopped by Jonathan Spector, one of the Death Eaters who served at the Doomstar.

Spector was young, about twenty-two years in age, had sandy-coloured hair and a well-defined body with bulging muscles that made him look more like a Muggle body-builder than a dignified wizard. He was a very good friend of Russell's and it was no surprise that both of them were more concerned with showing off and going to the nearest Muggle town for spending the night with some ladies than staying at the Doomstar and preparing themselves. He was a battle-monger like Russell, but did not have as much skill with the wand. Jerome always wondered in the first place, how such a fool like Spector got into the ranks in the first place. To him, he was more a liability than an asset. Jerome had often spoken of this to Russell, and Russell's friendship with Spector had always been a point of conflict between the brothers.

Spector stopped Jerome and said, "The master sends word for you. You are expected immediately in the Upper dungeons."

Jerome nodded and continued on his way back to his living quarters. Spector called out after him, "You are expected immediately. You are supposed to be in the dungeons before the master."

"Do not dare to order me, Spector," Jerome said, his voice cold like the frost that forms on leaves and winter, and doesn't disappear till the advent of spring – something that lives the bones stone cold and penetrates the heart like an arrow. "You have done what you were told to do, and you need to do no more. Just because you are my brother's friend doesn't mean that you are too."

Spector looked at Jerome once and then turning around, hurriedly went back to his post. He was mortally afraid of Jerome. He didn't understand why he disliked him or his friendship with Russell, nor did he understand why he had never managed to get along well with him, though he had a gift of befriending people.

Jerome looked on as Spector departed and then after dropping in at his quarters for a tick, he went down to the dungeons.

The path to the dungeons was always dark, for no sunlight penetrated the solid walls that enclosed the way. The dungeons at the Doomstar were divided into two levels – the Lower Dungeons and the Upper Dungeons. The upper level normally housed the less important prisoners while the lower dungeons housed the more dangerous ones. They also housed hundreds of foul, reeking Dementors as guards. Although Jerome knew that the vile creatures were all under his father's control and even if they attacked him, he knew the incantation to drive them away, he still did not feel comfortable in the presence of those creatures. Their very presence replayed certain memories in his mind which he had no remembrance of, but which caused him pain from an unknown source.

As Jerome walked down to the Upper Dungeons, he wondered why he had been sent for. He was perceptive, yes, and he knew that it was ordinarily for killing a prisoner off or torturing him. Those were normally the ends desired of him.

When Jerome reached the dungeons, he was ushered to where his presence was required. Standing in a room nearby were his father along with his lieutenants Bellatrix and Rudolphus Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy. Russell was also present. He almost looked bored.

Jerome went up to his father and bowed low before him. He asked, "Father, did you send for me?"

"Yes," Lord Voldemort replied and turning now to both of his sons, said, "My son, I want to take a test today."

He signalled to a closed door nearby. He explained, "Inside that cell is Jarvis Abercombie, the lone surviving member of the Abercombie family. He has a lot of information about the activities of our enemies. I want both of you to break him."

"Father," Russell said, "There is no need to delay this further. A simple memory infiltration will do…"

Voldemort turned towards Russell. There was a hint of scorn mingled with amusement in his voice when he said, "No, if I had to use that, I would have told my Death Eaters. I want to hear everything from him, even as he knows what he is doing. Break him, not encroach him. Remember what I have taught you – 'It is not the sight of the dead that should cause you joy, but the sight of pain that you cause in the living that should make you mirthful.'"

Russell nodded, still unconvinced. His misgivings were not cleared, but he had been taught through his growing years not to argue with his father's will.

Both the 'boys' entered the adjoining room. Seated in the centre of the room on a wooden chair, was a man with pare coloured skin and blonde hair. He was wearing ragged, torn robes and the blonde hair was all matted with dry blood. His face bore signs of many cuts and bruises. Blood was still flowing freely from some of his many wounds.

"This is going to be so easy," Russell said as they entered the room. Jerome though, wasn't so sure.

"So, do you want to have a go first?" Russell asked. It was apparent from the tone of his voice that he wanted to have his say first.

"No, you go on. I'll watch." Jerome replied. He took out his wand and conjured a comfortable chair in a corner for him to sit on.

Russell, meanwhile, was excited at the chance. It was his opportunity to prove himself.

He went up to the prisoner. As Russell approached, Jarvis looked up and saw the seventeen year old young man coming. His confidence gained in measure. The Dark Lord would have to send better men than this boy if he wanted to break him. He would have to come himself if he wanted to do so.

Russell came up to Jarvis and slapped him hard. Jarvis clenched his teeth, but he could not do anything else except ignoring the stinging pain. He was tightly tied to his chair, meaning that he could not move.

"Tell us everything you know." Russell ordered the prisoner, but he did not respond.

"Tell us everything, Jarvis," he repeated. This time, the prisoner opened his mouth and started laughing loudly. Even as Russell's temper rose to boiling point, Jerome thought, '_This is going to be very interesting_.'

"Crucio!" Russell shouted and directed the curse towards the prisoner. His body was overcome by pain, unimaginable and intense pan, but he did not budge. Russell physically tortured him, used a variety of painful curses, threatened him with more pain and death, but the prisoner did not budge from his obstinate stance. As the hour passed, Russell almost found himself wishing to tear at his hair.

"Don't wish that," Jerome broke in suddenly, as if on cue, on his thoughts as Russell stood thinking by his side, "If you pluck all your hair out of your head, how will you make all those girls come to bed with you?"

Russell glared at his brother's comment.

"I'll tell you what," Jerome said slowly, careful that the prisoner should not hear, "I'll give you a breather and try my own luck with him. If he does not say anything, we can both try together. All right?"

Russell nodded and took Jerome's place on the armchair. Jerome approached the prisoner. Jarvis looked up and saw a green-eyed young man approach him. His vanity told him that he would do no better than the first, yet his heart suddenly sank with an unknown fear.

Jerome came up to Jarvis and pointed his wand at him. Jarvis waited silently for another surge of pain to course through his body, but it never came. He found that Jerome had loosed all his bonds with the flick of his wand. He conjured another armchair directly in front of the prisoner and sat on it. He looked Jarvis straight in the eye but did not speak.

Finally, Jarvis could take the silence no more. He spoke first, "What don't you say something? Are you dumb?"

Jerome looked at Jarvis and said nonchalantly, "Why? Do you want me to speak?"

Jarvis was a loss for words. He had expected physical torture. What he was getting was mental torment. Physical torture was okay. It at least stopped him from thinking, but this young man, by not creating the void that was being created earlier in his mind due to all the torment, was making him think of the painful memories of his now destroyed family. All he was constantly reminded of now was the folly which they had all committed – the folly that killed everyone in his family.

Jerome looked intently at Jarvis and then said, "So, tell me everything."

Jarvis was relieved. At least, his interrogator had come to the point. "No," he replied.

"Alright, as you wish," Jerome said, and getting up, began to walk towards the door. But he stopped midway as if he had forgotten something. He went back up to the prisoner's chair from the back and kneeling down, he whispered softly into Jarvis' ears, "So, you have a little girl, haven't you?"

Jarvis nodded and gulped. Jerome continued, "Imagine being with her again, and with your wife. Imagine spending the rest of your life with them."

Jarvis tried to stop listening. He quickly closed his ears with his palms, but he could not keep Jerome's words out. Jerome was piercing his heart with each word that he uttered.

Jerome continued, "Imagine being able to see them again, hold them again. You would want that, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, yes," Jarvis said, even as he had both of his ears covered with his hands.

"Then why not help us give you that?" Jerome whispered. "Why not let us put you out of your misery? Why? Just tell us what you know. We will free you. We will give you what you want."

Finally, Jarvis broke down crying and started speaking. He told them everything he knew.

When he stopped speaking, Jerome pointed his wand at him and said, "Go now to your family. You were a bleeding traitor and need to atone for that." And with a flash of green light, the prisoner collapsed to the ground, dead.

An hour later, Jerome was in his own living quarters, satisfied, having passed the test and having done a great service to his father – the Dark Lord.

Author's Note:

Well, there's another chapter. I hope those of you who wanted to see more to Harry (Jerome's) dark side, got what you wanted


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